Unexpected
by rscoil
Summary: A wedding approaches and Erik's life takes an unexpected turn.


Christine danced into his office with a wide grin on her face.

"He proposed!"

Erik peered through his reading glasses at the magnificent diamond gracing his colleague's hand. Perfect facets glittered in the light of his desk lamp.

"It's about time," he mused. "I was beginning to think de Chagny would never muster the courage."

Christine dropped into the chair across from him, looking very like the undergrad she'd been when they met. Fifteen years prior, he'd been her faculty adviser. They'd become friends over the years, as they worked to hone her voice into a fantastic instrument. Now, with a doctorate of her own, she was a rising star among the music department's faculty.

Erik had never had children. If he had, he hoped they might have been like Christine.

"And so, a wedding to plan! I hope you'll be attending?"

Erik was taken aback. In his sixty-five years, he'd never been invited to a wedding, much less attended one. Coworkers got married, but the cranky department head (with the face that seemed just a bit _off_ somehow) was never on the guest list.

"I...would be honored, Christine."

"That's not even the part you're supposed to be honored by." Christine paused for breath. "I was just thinking-and it's okay if you don't want to, but it would mean a lot to me. You know that my dad died years ago. It's going to stink, not having him there. But anyhow, you've been like a second dad to me all these years. I wonder...would you be willing to walk me down the aisle?"

Erik blinked at her. "You would want that?"

She nodded. "There's no one else I'd rather have."

"Then it shall be done."

* * *

The day of the rehearsal dinner found Erik entirely unprepared. He was introduced to a swirl of people, trapped in a sea of chattering voices and unfamiliar faces. He fought the urge to constantly check the prosthetics on his face. It wouldn't do to have a slip, even if the big day was tomorrow.

He found a seat at the end of the table, next to Meg Giry. Aside from the happy couple, Meg was only familiar face in this chaos. She introduced the imperious woman across from him as her mother, Bernadette, before returning her attention to Christine.

The woman studied him closely, and Erik found himself staring back. She had strong features, a pronounced jawline and dark hair sprinkled with strands of silvery gray. She held herself in a way that commanded the space around her.

"So, you are Christine's mentor. She speaks of you like you're an angel of music. If her voice is any indication, you might be."

"Christine is naturally gifted, as well as hardworking and disciplined. I can hardly take credit for her talent." Erik did not fail to notice the subtle relaxation of her shoulders. His voice, even speaking, tended to have that effect.

"Still, you should be proud."

"Are you a musician, madame?"

"I haven't been married for years. I don't know if 'madame' applies," she laughed. "But no, I'm not a musician. I've recently retired from forty-odd years as a dance instructor, though, so I do have some appreciation for music."

"Is that so?"

The remainder of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy camaraderie. Erik found that he was actually enjoying himself at a social gathering. As it turned out, he and Bernadette shared the same sharp wit and dry sense of humor. By the end of the night, they were trading barbs as comfortably as if they'd been friends for decades.

* * *

The day of the wedding dawned. Even as Erik fussed with the train of Christine's gown, he found himself thinking of what he would say to Bernadette at the reception, mulling over quips and anecdotes to make her laugh.

He and Christine made their way down the aisle, to where de Chagny waited with a nervous smile. He caught Bernadette's eye as they passed.

Erik found himself enthralled in the glow of it all. The early stirrings of a melody played at the edge of his mind as he watched the couple exchange rings, finally sealing their vows with a kiss.

* * *

Two years later, Erik stood waiting for a bride of his own. The university's best organist accompanied Christine's sweet voice as she brought his wedding march to life. At one time, he would have been lost in bliss from the sound, but not today. All of it somehow faded as the doors opened and Bernadette made her entrance.

Her features wore the smile that he had come to learn was only for him. Her regal bearing, honed from years of dance, drew every eye in the room.

She touched his face as she came to stand beside him. The act was loving, accepting. She'd long since seen what the prosthetics hid, and she loved him anyway. Tonight, he would stand before her with his face bare, safe in the knowledge that she would not shy away.

The time came, and Erik did something he never expected to do. The music, his music, built to a crescendo.

At long last, Erik leaned down and kissed the bride.


End file.
